Learn
by vanillaparchment
Summary: The friendships behind the scenes have a bigger impact than anyone ever realizes. H/Hr


_A/N: I had no idea where this was going, originally, only that Molly was going to be observing. Anyway, this grew out of the first paragraph, and I'm rather fond of it now. I hope you enjoy! (For those of you waiting on That Old House, don't worry! I haven't abandoned it! I'm finally on Easter break, so I'll probably start updating soon!)  
_

Molly had watched them since they were children, wide-eyed and curious. It was endearing, their innocence and naivety. She'd chuckled to herself as the three of them dove right into school together. It had begun as just her son and his new, famous best mate, and soon they'd brought another unlikely friend into the mix. The trio would hold much longer than she'd imagined at the beginning, what with the bickering between her son and his bossy, brainy partner-in-crime.

What fascinated her beyond anything was the other one.

She'd taken it upon herself to give him the family he'd never had. Goodness knows he didn't look very well-loved at all. It still amazed her how polite and unassuming he was, from his taped glasses (mended, she was told, by his best friend) to his skinny frame draped with oversized clothes. His smile was crooked, hovering about the right side of his cheek with shy, uncertain amusement.

Not at all how many pictured Harry Potter, the young hero of their world. The only thing that matched their picture was that telltale, zigzag scar that hid behind his messy dark hair.

Of course, when word got around that this thin, spectacled boy had thwarted You-Know-Who once again, people began to wonder if he was the hero they'd been waiting for after all.

She'd never doubted it, especially after he saved little Ginny's life only a year later. Such a brave boy.

Her Ginny was rather taken with him from the beginning. She'd grown up hearing this boy's story, of how he survived when no one else had. She talked about him constantly, asking poor Ron so many questions that he finally just said, "Merlin, Ginny, how am I supposed to know?"

What kinds of questions she asked! It was rather amusing, she remembered. "What sort of things does he like to do? What bothers him? What's his favorite food? Does he fancy anyone? Do you think he likes animals?"

But then Ginny had met Hermione.

Here was a girl who spent day after day with the mysterious Harry Potter. In fact, she'd even participated in the wild adventures that Ron had. Best of all, she was Harry's best friend.

Molly had often listened to the two of them talk at the beginning, at Fortescues' Ice Cream Parlor. There they'd sat, ice creams in hand and purchases placed under their neat wooden chair. Hermione's honey brown eyes had sparkled with amusement as Ginny began bombarded her with questions. It amazed her how easily she seemed to answer, down to his favorite color and food.

But as she delicately licked the last of her ice cream away from the stub of her cone, she'd finally laughed and suggested, "It might be better if you got to know him by talking to him."

"Oh, I don't know if I could face him." Ginny had balked at this suggestion, turning bright red at the thought. Hermione carefully mopped up the speckles of ice cream from the table and smiled.

"It's not too hard," she promised kindly, "He's very friendly."

"Oh, it's not that. I mean, I know he is, really." Ginny said, nearly crushing her melted ice cream cone in her fist. "Oops— I saw you talking to him. He looked nice."

"He's even nicer than he looks." Hermione chuckled, "Don't drop your ice cream!"

"I know, I know—you make it sound easy, Hermione. I mean, you've got a head start—"

"I didn't realize we were racing," she'd quipped playfully. Ginny had, of course, blushed again.

"Well—aren't you and him…?" Here, she'd looked around furtively, as if she were on the brink of disclosing a great secret. "Don't you fancy him? I mean—"

Hermione had laughed in astonishment.

"He's my best friend," she'd said matter-of-factly, "It's not a secret."

"Oh, I know you say that, but really, you and Harry— I mean, you wouldn't mind?"

"Mind what?"

Ginny's face had been so red that her hair was almost indistinguishable from her forehead.

"Well, I fancy him," she'd confided with childish seriousness. "You don't mind, do you, Hermione?"

"Mind?" Hermione's eyes had danced with amusement. "You don't need permission from me to fancy him, Ginny!"

"Oh, I know." Ginny had said, looking flustered. "I just—you seem so close…"

"We are." Hermione had said affectionately. "We're best friends."

"And you're happy that way?"

"Shouldn't I be?"

"No, that's not what I meant…" Ginny had stuttered, "But he's _Harry Potter._ I mean, he's a _hero."_

"But he's my friend." Hermione had said simply. "It's really quite impossible to be friends with a hero."

"What do you mean?"

"He's my friend first." Hermione had explained thoughtfully, "I suppose he _is_ a hero, really, but somehow I just see him as my very brave, very good best friend."

Those words always made Molly smile. Hermione had always been so confident in Harry and their friendship. Things at that age were so simple, so easy to understand.

Harry had always been somewhat of a mystery to her. Hearing Hermione speak about him was like a glimpse of what he was truly like. Molly knew Harry depended on her for assurance and reason. The trio wouldn't have been complete without this practical, feisty girl moving things along.

But as the years went by and the trio grew, things began to change. It was right before Ginny's fifth year, the trio's sixth, that Molly started to notice.

Hermione had come to stay for the summer, and Molly managed to listen in on a conversation between the two girls while they washed the dishes. The rain had just started when Ginny suddenly spoke.

"So I suppose things between Harry and Cho are over for good?"

"That's what he said."

"I heard him." Ginny ran a towel along the plate Hermione handed her. "Is he disappointed?"

Hermione had stopped with a glass in her left hand, staring out the window with a decidedly impassive face.

"Have you asked him?"

"When does he ever talk to me?" Ginny had said shortly. "Is he?"

Hermione had turned back with a sigh.

"No, I don't think he is, Ginny." Hermione had handed her the glass and picked up another plate splattered with tomato sauce. She'd plunged the dish into the sink, still gazing out at the rain with a somewhat distant look on her face. Her other hand slid into the water as well, moving up and down the plate with a ragged sponge.

"What's up with you?" Ginny had asked with an edge to her voice. "Are things going badly with Ron?"

"No, actually." Hermione had said quietly, "Ron and I have managed to keep things in relative calm."

"Come on, Hermione." Ginny had said impatiently, "I know you fancy my brother—I don't know why, to be honest—"

Hermione had offered a wry laugh.

"I don't fancy Ron any more than I fancy Harry."

Something in Ginny's face had changed.

"Look, Hermione, I know I ask you this—"

"At least twice a year. No, I don't fancy Harry."

"You think about him all the time, don't you?" Ginny had ventured almost challengingly. "I can tell, you know, by the look on your face. I see you staring at his photo all the time, and don't tell me that's not true, because it is."

Hermione's lips had tightened as she pulled the plate out of the sink and rinsed it. The rain outside had strengthened slightly.

"I just worry about him, that's all," Hermione had said quietly, evenly. "He had a hard year."

"Hermione, you don't need to worry." Ginny had said firmly. "Harry's fine."

Molly had seen the spark in her daughter's eyes then; a brief flash of jealousy. She'd prayed in those brief moments that Ginny would forget it, leave the jealousy behind her.

Hermione had stood, and moved to the sink, her eyes moving to the window's streaked pane once more. A heavy silence had settled over the kitchen, before Ginny had come and placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione, I—I'm sorry," she said at last, sincerely. "I know it was a hard year for you, too. Because it was hard for Harry."

Hermione had turned around, and before Molly knew it, the two girls were hugging each other tightly, dishes forgotten.

"I still don't mind it." Hermione had teased after a moment, pulling away. Ginny had blushed and laughed.

"I don't fancy him anymore, Hermione."

Hermione had smirked slightly.

"Of course you don't, Ginny," she'd said lightly, although something in her eyes seemed to glimmer wistfully of something else.

She'd left the two of them in the kitchen, even as they splashed each other with soapy water and teased each other as if they were still twelve and thirteen. Even as the friendship between them grew, Harry remained the one area where the two of them stood on uneven ground.

And so it remained through the tumultuous events of the next few years. Harry and Ginny dated, and yet Hermione stayed by Harry's side, remaining by him faithfully, unwavering in friendship and assurance. Molly could only assume that Hermione's love for her friend changed then, during that time. For now, when the battle was over and won, Hermione and Ginny found themselves facing each other alone for the first time in a very long time.

They were standing in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, gazing at each other quietly and almost shyly. Molly was nearby, pretending to sweep up some of the shattered glass in the corner.

"Ginny, I'm—I'm glad you're safe." Hermione had broken the silence awkwardly. Ginny had nodded.

"I'm glad you're all right, Hermione."

Silence again. Molly felt a pang of sadness for the silence in what was once a strong friendship.

"I'm sorry about Fred," Hermione ventured hesitantly. "I—"

"Hermione!"

Hermione stopped abruptly. Ginny was staring at her intently.

"Hermione, do you love him?"

Hermione's breath caught audibly, snagging on a shaky sob.

"Ginny, I—"

"You don't need my permission to love him, Hermione." Ginny said with a shaky forcefulness.

"Ginny—"

"Listen, Hermione," Ginny said in a tight voice, the words coming from her with what seemed to be great difficulty. "I have to say this now or I'm afraid I'll make a mistake… and never say this properly— please listen, like you did before."

"I will." Hermione whispered after a long silence, tears glimmering on her cheeks.

Ginny took a deep breath and struggled with herself for a moment.

"Hermione, no matter how much you help me, no matter how much you tell me about Harry—" her voice broke on his name, but she pushed on, "You'll always know him best. I think—I _know—_you can love him better than I ever could, all right? Just… just nod or something. I don't—"

With those words, some sort of barrier seemed to shatter between the two girls. Simultaneously, they ran forward and embraced each other, barely hidden sobs reaching Molly's ears.

Molly had never been so proud of her daughter than in that moment, when she gave up her childhood dream and decided to pursue the dream of her reality.

In years to come, the famous trio would have a friendship of legend. At Harry and Hermione's wedding, almost every toast had to do with the friendship between Harry, Ron, and Hermione, of how the three became two and yet, somehow, still remained three.

Molly, however, would always look to the maid of honor, sitting and laughing with the bride, and she'd smile to herself.

No one paid much attention to Ginny and Hermione's friendship. No one really cared.

After all, it's very hard to have a friendship of legend.

But Molly would always use Hermione's own words to describe their friendship in her mind.

It was a friendship first, not a legend, and she would always see it as a very good, very brave friendship that would last for a very long time.


End file.
